Feverish Delusions
by Prufrax
Summary: Her reality is coming apart at the seams. Is there anyone out there that will hold her together just a little longer? (Strong sexual imagery, although not quite explicit.)


**FEVERISH DELUSIONS**

**Author's Notes:** Bear in mind that Barriss is becoming unhinged, try to look at everything that happens here through that lens. Try not to get too hung up on the Anakin part.

The body under my hands is still. It's time to move on to the next soldier, but I can't. My legs refuse to obey. This was the third time I patched up this particular clone. Mine is a battle of attrition. How many more will die under my care? Which will end first, my sanity or the war?

My eyes sting, whether from sadness or rage, I can't tell anymore. It breaks me every time someone dies despite my best efforts. The misery is so quickly replaced by frustration at the Jedi order, that I no longer know where one ends and the other begins. In turn, that frustration fans a rage so hot within me, it feels like choking on the smoke of its fire.

As if providence were on my side, Ahsoka walks into the medical tent. Time slows to a crawl every time I'm in her presence. She holds the door flap open over her head and scans the place with her huge steel blue eyes. There is no escaping their pull, they are gravity itself. Perhaps I may still be granted a measure of sweetness through this bitter ordeal.

Fate chooses this moment to tease me, as if my inner turmoil were not chaotic enough. Ahsoka licks her plump lips. A lance of desire pierces me all the way from the top of my head, passing through my mouth, and down to my lower belly. The tingling is so unbearable, I have to bite down on my lower lip. A shudder passes through me anyway, and I can only hope they don't notice.

How foolish was I to believe there could be any succor for me. Ahsoka struts in, making my knees wobble, and right on her heels comes fucking Anakin Skywalker. The gentle warmth within my body turns into boiling blood faster than you can say my life is shit.

They're coming this way so I rein in my emotions. I want to wring the fucking asshole's neck, but I was raised from childhood to have impeccable manners. Plus, those were lessons that Master Luminara gladly carried on after I was taken to the temple.

I used to believe that manners make us—not anymore. Now I believe that as along as I behave like royalty, I can think the most fucked up shit imaginable. No one will ever know, so no one will ever care.

Even if within the confines of my mind the appeal of my lightsaber grows with every passing second, I put forth my best face. The palm of my hand itches.

"Barris," Ahsoka greets me, a blinding smile on her lips.

Oh, I'm not worthy! If only she knew the fucked up shit that goes on in my head.

"Padawan Offee." His voice grates my every nerve, not unlike machinery coming to a grinding halt.

It's a monumental feat of willpower not to pounce at his face and scratch his fucking eyes out. Instead, I curtsy. "Master Skywalker."

Oh, Ahsoka, give me strength.

Somehow, my silent plea is answered. She comes to stand beside me and squeezes my bicep. Force, I'm never showering again. Hell, come the end of the war I'm going to fucking marry my own arm.

"You seem tense. Is everything okay?"

It is now. Her hand lingers. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Her expression morphs into concern and it's beatific. Saint Ahsoka the gorgeous.

Then, she moves even closer and transfers her hand to my lower back, rubbing up and down. Oh joy of joys! I could orgasm right now.

Rationally speaking, I'm very much aware that both my rage and sexual desires conflict with the tenets of the Jedi. I am, however, well past giving a single fuck. Everything the Jedi do contravenes their own creed. Their ideals are worth less to me than the piss I took this very morning after waking up in this infernal shithole. So, I relish this moment, feeling not an ounce of regret that could taint it.

"Yes," I finally reply. "You know how it is."

A shadow crosses her expression and she gazes at the floor for a second. "I know."

How is she this good, this kind?

She moves away then, to stand beside Skywalker, and it feels like the entire universe has just lost something fundamental. The laws of physics have been intrinsically altered.

Nothing like a deep, calming breath to cure every ailment, huh? Well, it's not like I have any other recourse at the moment. "How can I help you, Master Skywalker?" The words are bile on my tongue, sliding down my throat.

"We were just assessing the situation of our wounded."

Is he fucking blind on top of stupid?! Can't he see that I'm up to my elbows on clones at death's gate?

Keep it in. Keep it in. Keep it in.

"As you can see." I motion all around us with one hand. "We don't even have enough beds, much less other more vital supplies. It's dire, Master."

If I have to call him master one more time, I'm going to fucking puke right here on top of this still warm corpse.

Fortunately, if there is a single trait I could ever come to appreciate in him, it's that he's quite sympathetic toward the plights of others. His expression darkens, the muscles of his neck grow taut, and without another word, he turns to leave.

Ahsoka waves at me as she trots behind him. I wave back, and without an ounce of shame, stare at her retreating form. Is she aware of the way she sways her hips?

How is it that an indomitable spirit like her ends up following Skywalker like a lost puppy? How did he earn that much adoration and dependence? It's now time for my brain's favorite pastime: Providing invasive thoughts on how Skywalker managed to tame that little spitfire. My brain's top hypothesis on offer? He gave her a good dicking—the fucking degenerate. He extracted every ounce of pleasure from her delectable, waifish body.

To say that Anakin Skywalker is an unconventional Jedi is the understatement of the fucking century. Were I to put mildly what I think about his promotion to master, I would say that the council is batshit fucking insane.

Oh, he eased Ahsoka into it, that's a given. He likely began quite tenderly, even. As I said before, he cares about the suffering of others. As long as they're not his enemies, of course.

I can see him and Ahsoka as vividly as I can see my own two hands right now.

One late night, he walked into her bedroom and had her sit on his lap. Without making a big deal about it, he enveloped her completely in his arms, petite thing that she is. Then, he began whispering sweet nothings in her ear, alternating with small pecks on her shoulder.

As if by accident, he slid his large callused hands down to her belly, relishing the warmth and softness of the skin there. Of course, at the same time, he moved on to kissing and suckling along her neck. By then, Ahsoka would've already relaxed into his touch.

His hands on her belly were warm and protective. That would soon change, though. Once he felt her body soften, he moved on to pet her through the fabric of her clothes. This would have elicited the most exquisite squeal from her, one which he gladly swallowed with his mouth. The kiss was slow but deep. He didn't use his tongue yet, though. That, he was saving for later, when he needed it to tear down more of her barriers.

Little by little, she warmed up to his touch, gradually opening her thighs to grant him better access. By the time he slipped his hand past her garments to touch her directly, she was already wet enough to slide a finger inside. If Ahsoka is fire outside, inside she is positively volcanic. Thus far untouched and unexplored velvet clenched rhythmically around him like a fist.

Not that it has to be clarified, but I'm sure that he was drooling just by imagining himself buried to the hilt within her welcoming depths, the fucking lecher.

Anyway, Skywalker is greedy, so he didn't stop there.

The moment Ahsoka began panting and mewling, he lifted her from his lap and yanked down her tights and panties at the same time. Garments now around her ankles, he proceeded to bend her over, placing her hands on the wall. The time for kindness was past, she was pliable enough now, and he had to start molding her young and nubile mind from the onset. He would train her to become his perfect cumbucket, whorish and sex-crazed, just like he'd done with that fucking senator. Padme Amidala looks like a cock hungry slut if I've ever seen one.

Still somewhat in control of his faculties, Skywalker took care to slide slowly into Ahsoka, giving her willing insides time to accept his entire girth and length. However, the difference between their sizes meant that despite any concession to Ahsoka's comfort, he still ended up plundering her deepest parts and stretching her to her limit. Togruta are more resilient than humans, though. So, instead of moaning in pain, she moaned in pleasure. Not just any moan, too, but loud, clear and lascivious. In his mind, Skywalker was already making plans for future encounters, seeing how she was acting like a wanton little whore despite this being her first time.

I grind my teeth. Ahsoka, you fucking slut, how could you?

Back to business. After fucking her from behind like rutting animals, he moved on to do her on the bed. She always seemed elastic when training and fighting, but to see her with her knees touching her shoulders was still a sight to behold.

By now, he had no compunctions, his rhythm was fast and savage. He pumped her like hydraulic machinery, and then, without mercy, he pumped her full. Right before, though, he plunged his tongue down her throat. Thus, instead of protesting, she gladly accepted everything he gave her.

To culminate that night of debauchery on a high note, or low, depending on your morals, he had her clean him on her knees. Instead of balking at the notion, she licked their intermingled juices off of him like it was a scrumptious treat, and swallowed his filthy seed happily.

My goddess, brought low and stained, tainted, thoroughly ruined. If it had to happen, it should've been me! Revulsion, rage and arousal swirl within me in equal measure.

Maybe that night, and many more, happened, maybe they didn't. This much is certain right now, though: My underwear is soaked through. I need to rub one out, stat.

Slipping away unseen is nothing to a Jedi, even when dealing with genetically enhanced soldiers. Since I'm the chief medic on site, I was assigned my own tent away from the bustle of the camp. That's where I head to. No one ever bothers me there, so I'm safe to do as I please. And my oh my have I been doing as I please with myself these last months.

As soon as I'm hidden from prying eyes, I jump on the bed, lift my skirt and bunch it around my waist with desperation. Just as I imagined Skywalker doing to Ahsoka, I yank both my tights and panties down at the same time.

There's the terror one feels when facing certain death in the battlefield. Then, there's the terror one feels when their crush enters their quarters just as they're about to stick three fingers inside.

Right now, I'm feeling the latter, and trust me when I say that it's way worse than the former.

She's staring at me with wide eyes. Her expression is unreadable. In a futile gesture to preserve some of my modesty and dignity, I pull my skirt down. Words have deserted me. I can't breathe and I'm certain that my heart has stopped.

Then, all my suffering, worrying and pining is rendered pointless. Ahsoka pounces on me and smashes her lips into mine. Perhaps, seeing how I just spoke ill of anyone giving into their carnal desires, I should stop her. I don't.

When her hand reaches down and paws at my skirt, fumbling, clumsy and overeager, I still don't stop her. When she pulls the garment up like she wants to tear it off me, I simply sigh with relief that she's finally, finally going to meet both our expectations. And if I didn't at any of those junctures, I obviously don't stop her when she buries her fingers inside me all the way down to her knuckles.

My climax is sudden and savage, it crashes against me like a tidal wave, dragging me along and razing all reasoning in its path. I'm barely cognizant of the fact that I'm clinging to Ahsoka like she's a rock amid a river in which I'm drowning.

Do my nails break skin? It's a likely possibility. Does she stop kissing me at any point? Does her hand relent? I don't believe either happens, seeing how the tide rises time and again and seems never ending as I ride its crests and valleys.

Relinquishing my body to be used by someone else doesn't feel as strange as I thought when I assumed I'd be the one lording over petite Ahsoka.

I wish I could say that when I finally regain consciousness I feel bad. Of course I don't. Never before in my life have I been happier.

Ahsoka is still holding me, planting soft kisses all over my face. Despite the tenderness of the gesture, it stokes the fire in my belly once more. Craving her proximity, I circle her waist with one arm and pull her as tight as I can against me. Our bodies fit together like we were born for this specific purpose. With one hand on her soft cheek, I guide her lips to mine.

It's our first proper kiss. At first I was in a panic, and then I was having the best, most mind numbing orgasm of my life. This time, I can take the time to appreciate the downy hairs on her face and just how supple her generous lips actually are. They're smooth, warm and eager, and they follow my every motion like a choreographed dance. It's like she's had plenty of practice, which I'm sure she's had in the hands of that fuckwit, Skywalker.

Carried away by the intoxicating sensation, I try to slip my tongue inside the exquisite velvet of her mouth. I want to taste for myself, I want to clean her from that man's taint with my tongue. If I have to lick every single inch of her body, inside and out, so be it. To my surprise and disappointment, Ahsoka recoils away from me.

"What is it?" I ask, or rather, I demand. This refusal is quite insulting in the face of all the shit she's probably done with that bastard.

I mean, it's not like I crossed some line, right? Skywalker has thoroughly trained her every hole already, what is a little tongue when kissing compared to that?

Then, I see it. She's blushing, her gaze downcast, avoiding mine. It hits me like a slap to the face. Something's actually going on and I haven't the slightest clue.

"Ahsoka?" This time, I demand not out of selfishness but concern.

"I… um. I'm sorry. It's just..."

More words follow but they are basically inaudible. Not wanting to scare her any further, seeing how she's already acting like a cornered animal, I reach for her hand and entangle our fingers. After a minute or so, I give it an encouraging squeeze.

She smiles and I have to bite my lower lip to keep from kissing her.

"It's just… It's just that... It's my first time kissing anyone."

This time, I hear her despite her whispering and mumbling.

What?

What?!

Two hours later, while doing my rounds in the medical tent, I'm still worried that someone's going to notice that something is amiss. Can they really not see the idiotic smile plastered all over my face? Even I noticed when I looked in the mirror. Don't they see that I'm skipping instead of walking? Does no one around here know what an orgasmic afterglow is?! Really?!

In any case, the Jedi may forbid attachment, but merely relieving tension through sex wouldn't get me that severe of a punishment. Also, what do I care that these poor bastards don't know about the pleasures of the flesh. It's actually better for me this way.

I can't wait to see Ahsoka again—my love, my everything.

I can't wait to ruin her.

**FIN**


End file.
